Page 57 of The Orc Chief’s Baker (Orc Mates Of Faeda #4)

Chapter

Forty-Five

TRINIA

S tanding within her mother’s bakery, with the fire extinguished and the candles blown out and the scent of stale bread stronger than the smell of it baking, she had such a hard time believing that her time here was over.

And yet . . .

She took a deep, hard breath and picked up another bag of clothes. She hadn’t thought she would have much to pack. In her mind, it all fit into a single bag.

Now she had half of the hand wagon filled to bursting, and there was still more.

Items that did not belong to the bakery.

Personal things, sketchbooks, and knick-knacks.

There was a book of tales her mother used to read her and an old mug that her grandfather had made himself.

There was her grandmother’s old shawl and the stools that Ulia had given her as a birthday present.

In the corner, at the bottom of a drawer, Trinia found her mother’s favorite pair of gloves. They still smelled like her. Lavender lotion and rose tea.

She tried to concentrate on these things as she packed them. She focused on what she could take with her and not on what she was leaving behind.

She focused on what she was gaining instead of what she was giving up.

Warmth bloomed in her as thoughts of Brovdir flooded her mind. His laugh, his rough voice, his shaggy hair.

The way he supported and stood by her through everything.

“There you are!”

The shriek echoed in the bakery and Trinia spun around to find Yerina barreling into the room with the same ferocity as an angry boar.

“ Where have you been?” Yerina reached out to snatch her arm, but she stepped back, evading her grip.

“You’ve nearly ruined everything . Do you know how hard I’ve worked to get Ronhold to agree to marry his son off to you?

Do you want us to be destitute? Now come on!

We need to go to Ronhold before it’s too late. ”

“It’s already too late, Yerina.” Trinia looked around the room for any more belongings she wanted to take. “There’s no way I’m marrying Tobbis.”

“You have to.”

“I don’t have to do anything.”

“So that’s it? We lose the bakery because you are too stupid and stubborn to see reason? What would mama think if she were here to see you giving up?”

The roaring flame of guilt that exploded in Trinia’s gut was tremendous. What would she think? “I... I’m not?—”

“You have to marry Tobbis, Trinia,” Yerina snapped. “We’ll lose everything . What would mother even think of you? You’ve been away from the bakery for two days . Don’t you have orders to fill? Where have you even been ?”

Then Yerina’s eyes snapped to the bandage on Trinia’s shoulder. One she’d nearly forgotten was there.

Because the injury felt like a part of her already.

Yerina yanked the bandage back so fast it was a blur, and Trinia wasn’t able to smack her hand away in time.

“No!” Yerina gasped out. “Are those orc teeth marks?”

“That’s none of your concern.”

“It’s that warrior chief, isn’t it? The one who was sniffing around you before! That beast has?—”

“Do not talk about Brovdir like that,” Trinia seethed with enough malice that Yerina went pale and snapped her trap shut.

“Glad to see we’re all in fighting spirits this morning.”

Trinia’s breath seized in her throat as she turned to find Ronhold stepping into the bakery.

His eyes were beady and confident. He had perfectly combed his white hair, his face looked fresh, and he wore some of the finest clothes Oakwall offered.

His posture reeked of superiority. Everything about him made her want to bolt.

But she couldn’t. She needed to face this.

Tobbis followed close behind his father. He was dressed just as fine, but looked so much more awkward.

“Are you playing conquest to one of our new orc chiefs?” Ronhold asked.

“That isn’t any of your business.” Trinia worked hard to keep her voice level.

A wide grin spread across Ronhold’s face, and Trinia shivered with dismay. “What boons did he offer you in exchange? He’s the chief to the clan, so I know he must have promised something good.”

Trinia clenched her fists and refused to speak.

“I assume it’s for the bakery, since I know how devoted you are. Out with it, girl.”

Trinia glowered at him.

Ronhold smirked in a way that turned her stomach. “Fine, keep your secrets for now. We’ll discover what boons he’s giving you soon enough, since half of it will belong to my son.”

“I am not marrying your son.”

“I’m afraid you don’t have much of a choice,” Ronhold said. “If you don’t marry him, then you will lose this bakery forever.”

“Trinia, please, listen to reason .” Yerina stepped forward with pretty, shimmering tears in her eyes. “We’ll starve if you try to go against Ronhold.”

Trinia was done letting guilt force her hand. “No, Yerina. I’ve made up my mind.”

“Little girl, don’t underestimate me.” Ronhold’s expression went so cold it nearly made her shiver.

“I’ve been running things since before you were even a twinkle in your father’s eye, and I suggest you get in line behind me, or you’ll quickly discover just why no one else dares to compete with my affairs. ”

“I’m not meddling in anything , Ronhold,” Trinia said with a snort. “I’m letting you win. Give me a moment and I’ll be packed up and gone and you can do anything you like to this place. Run it or burn it. It’s all the same to me.”

With that, she carried a handful of candles and a stack of paper past Ronhold and Tobbis out to the awaiting cart.

“What are you doing?” Ronhold snapped, storming over as she continued to load up. “These things are mine .”

“I assure you they are not ,” Trinia said coldly as she continued to organize her blankets so they wouldn’t fall. “I’m not taking anything that could be considered yours.”

Which was honestly most of the bakery. All the pans and tools, the furniture, even the flour and sacks of grain, technically belonged to the bakery.

She ignored Ronhold’s protests as she went back inside.

Her chest tightened as she looked around.

An entire lifetime of memories flooded her.

She’d taken her first steps on these floorboards.

She’d played here more than anywhere else in the village.

She could count the days she hadn’t stepped into the bakery on two hands.

This was the last day she would ever step foot inside these walls.

Her eyes prickled as she went to the cabinet in the back of the room where there was a large, leather-bound book with yellowed pages and faded writing.

It was a bit dusty. She hadn’t needed to reference it for a very, very long time. Within, the recipes from four generations of her family were scrawled.

Unable to help herself, she flipped through the pages. The scent of old flour and parchment filled her nose as her eyes glanced over the handwriting of her great-grandmother, her grandmother, and then...

Her mother.

Her mother’s handwriting was large and looped. In the beginning, her mother’s recipes had flowers doodled in the margins. The explanations were flourished with details like “rosemary is so good in this one” and “try this with cinnamon. It’s divine!”

The writing became much more subdued after she’d married Trinia’s father, and then, at the back, there were little notes specifically to Trinia.

“Don’t forget to add the onion again, Trinia!”

“These were your favorite when you were a baby.”

“You should try these with nuts sometime.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to teach you this recipe myself.”

“I wish we had more time.”

Trinia’s eyes welled with tears as she closed the book.

“What do you have there? Show me. Now,” Ronhold demanded as he stormed over to her.

“It’s my mother’s private journal!” Trinia snapped, but she wasn’t strong enough to stop Ronhold from snatching the book out of her hands. Behind him, she could see Yerina had averted her gaze, clearly unwilling to step in.

“This is far more than a journal,” he said flipping roughly through the pages. “And considering its contents, I would say this belongs to the bakery, not to you.”

“It’s in the hand of my ancestors. It’s a family heirloom.” Trinia tried to take it back, but Ronhold simply held it above his head, out of her reach.

“This whole bakery could be considered a family heirloom, but it is mine nonetheless.” Ronhold’s grin made her stomach turn sour. “But if you want to keep it in the family, you know what you have to do.”

Trinia’s stomach twisted and her mind reeled, and her eyes stung as tears welled up.

And then Brovdir’s voice rang in her mind.

“You always call it your mother’s bakery. Shouldn’t it be yours?”

It should be. But it had never felt like that.

Because she’d never really wanted it.

Trinia stopped fighting.

Ronhold blinked in shock as Trinia took a step away from him.

“No. I won’t marry your son, Ronhold.”

The man’s brows furrowed into a tight scowl. “You’ll lose everything. ”

She would. She’d lose her livelihood. Her home. The place where she’d made so many memories.

Memories with a mother she loved so dearly. The feeling of safety and security. The feeling of home she’d once felt here... all of that was already gone.

It was gone the day her mother died.

“This bakery... hasn’t ever really been mine,” Trinia said quietly.

“What was that, girl?”

Trinia met his eyes. “I said it’s never been mine. I worked it out of duty . Because my father and sister needed me to. Because this was where my mother was, and I only ever wanted to be with her. But she’s gone. And she’s not coming back, no matter how much I toil here.”

“So, you’re just going to give up her legacy?” Ronhold snapped, waving the book at her. “The legacy of your whole family will be lost because of you.”

“I’m not losing anything, Ronhold,” Trinia said calmly. “My father already did that. He is the one who lost it.”

“And I’m giving you the opportunity to have it back!” Ronhold cried. “I’m being generous and you’re spitting in my face!”